


Icarus Fell

by ride_the_dinos



Category: DC - Fandom, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Circus, Angst, Case Fic, Circus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Experimentation, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt Jason Todd, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Psychological Horror, Ringmaster Bruce, Sideshow - Freeform, Tragedy, Whump Fic, except joker that freak, i took a break and i return with changes, joker is messed up af, pyg gets really involved and no one likes it, trapeze artist Dick Grayson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-13 18:45:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18474874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ride_the_dinos/pseuds/ride_the_dinos
Summary: Jason loved fire. He felt powerful with it- confident, in control.Dick sometimes said fire reflected in his eyes, even when there were no matches around.





	1. the robin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason loved fire. He felt powerful with it- confident, in control. Dick sometimes said fire reflected in his eyes, even when there were no matches around.

_The circus arrives without warning._

_No announcements precede it, no paper notices_

_on downtown posts and billboards,_

_no mentions or advertisements in local newspapers._

_It is simply there, when yesterday it was not._

"The Night Circus" 

Erin Morgenstern

-

The sun had yet to show it’s face and already, Wayne’s Whimsical Wonders was setting up the grounds for another week of brilliant mind fuckery, heart-stopping, death-defying acts, and, of course, pick pocketing and general fraud. Just over the treetops of Moarte Forest, Gotham’s looming silhouette watched their every move.

Cool mist hung heavy that morning, thick enough that droplets of dew formed on Jason’s eyelashes as he sat on his trailer step, tying up worn leather boots. Exhaustion buzzed through his bones, they had been driving non-stop for the past week to make it here on schedule, and _finally_ around midnight they had arrived. . . only to wake a few hours later to begin the process of setting up.

It was a stressful part of the job.

Jason loved it though. He loved getting up early, before the hustle of everyone else. The world was at a standstill. Holding it’s breath. . . like an audience watching an acrobat tumble through the air only to be caught at the last second. Jason felt that if he could be stuck in one moment forever, it would be this moment.

Dick Grayson, on the other hand, was so far from being a morning person he might as well be related to the moon. His boyfriend- an _actual_ _acrobat_ \- was still snuggled tightly inside their rickety old trailer, dead to the world even though Jason had tried everything from kisses to more sensual means to wake him. Of course, he’d just burrowed deeper into the thick comforter and mumbled something about “death to the extroverts.”

“Babe,” Jason had chuckled as he nuzzled against his soft bangs, pressing kisses to his eyelids, “Out of the two of _us_ , I am _not_ the extrovert.”

“Fire eating maniacs, then.”

Jason laughed, whole body shaking and making the old bed creak and bounce. Dick couldn’t help the grin that crept to his face, hiding  beneath the blanket edge. Jason shook his head and peeled it down with a finger, laughter reflected in sparkling blue eyes.

“You got me there, Mr. Grayson.”

Dick rose to his elbows and pressed a deep kiss to his mouth, pulling back with a  _pop_ , “Indeed I did, Mr. Todd. Red Hood Extraordinaire.”

“Ah, the Notorious Nightwing, finally out of his shell. Breakfast? Or something else?”

Jason wagged his eyebrows and Dick laughed, pushing at his chest with one strong hand, “A _shower_. A real one. With soap. I feel like I’ve been bathing in Stephanie's tank water for a week.”

“Ew,” Jason agreed.

‘Fire eating maniac’ was definitely the correct label for him. He was a fire breather. Performed delicate, scary, sometimes _explosive_ acts in Bruce Wayne’s circus.

Jason loved fire. He felt powerful with it- confident, in control. Dick sometimes said fire reflected in his eyes, even when there were no matches around.

Jason stood now, stretching in the cool mist as he listened to Dick’s humming turn to booming half-correct lyrics of some random song he’d heard on the radio. The shower in their rickety trailer had almost no water pressure, it was pretty much the equivalent of two plastic water bottles being poured over your head _very_ slowly. He’d be a while.

Jason was turning to go back inside when something caught his eye.

Something glistening a sickly ruby red.

Crouching down, he studied the small bird that lay bloody and mangled next to the trailer wall. It's eyes were opened wide as if in surprise.

Or. . . as if in _horror_.   

Jason grimaced and went inside to retrieve a newspaper. Gently, he wrapped the bird’s small body in the paper, admiring the yellow and orange hues of feathers that hinted through the crimson blood. It’s tangled wings used to be a cool grey. It looked like it could once have been a robin. He wasn’t sure though, he’d have to ask Damian later.

Once he reached the edge of the deeply shadowed forest, Jason crouched next to a fallen log, overrun with bulbous fungi. Wrapping the delicate body up he placed it gently beneath the rotting wood.

Before his fingers even left the smooth paper, a soft twinkling sound reached his ears. His eyes shot up, searching the misty shadows before him. Normally, the sound of bells could be heard on the costumes of the other Circus dwellers, a sound he was used to, a sound he invited.

But _not_ when it came from deep inside a strange forest.

His eyes searched the rolling mist, slowly rising from a crouch as he stood before the inky black.

* _tingalingaling*_

There.

Behind a tree.

The flash of red ribbons and lace fluttered behind it, deep in the thick of shadows and lively wisps of fog.

An uneasy feeling tickled down his spine and he took a step back. Suddenly, the dark of morning and cool kiss of mist didn’t seem so pleasant.

 “Jason!”

 He jumped, glancing back at the trailer.

 “Coming!” He called, voice too loud in his own ears. When he spun his gaze back around, the ribbons were gone.

Had they ever really been there?

Or was it just a trick of his tired mind playing with the Gotham air?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im trying out some different stuff be patient with me >_<


	2. the fortune teller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You went into the forest?!"  
> Jason stared wide eyed at the old woman, who’s shaking hands threatened to drop her breakfast. Dick stepped toward her, concern obvious in his movements. Somewhere in the labyrinth of tents bells chimed musically.

“You okay?”

Jason walked up to Dick, who was scrubbing his ebony black curls dry with a threadbare towel, small smile dimpling against tan skin.

“Yeah . . . yes. There was a dead bird on the ground. I put it in the. . . forest.”

The smile fell and Dick hummed, “that’s too bad, don’t tell Dami.”

Jason nodded, glancing back at the dark tree line, trying to catch a glimpse of anymore . . . _anything_.

There hadn’t _really_ been anything standing in that forest, right? Even if there was, what was he going to do about it? Tell Bruce? Jason inwardly snorted as he imagined how _that_ conversation would go.

_“While burying the bloody corpse of a robin under a rotten log in the forest I think I saw some costumed freak playing hide and seek with the fog.”_

_“That’s it, Jay-lad. Get into the Gotham spirit, speak the people’s language.”_

God, he hates it when Bruce calls him that.

Dick carelessly tossed the towel through the door of their faded yellow trailer and smiled, reaching towards him with long calloused fingers.

“C’mon, maybe we can get some practice in before the _real_ work starts. I need to stretch my legs.”

Jason allowed himself to be dragged through the slapdash neighborhood of rundown trailers and patchwork tents where the circus dwellers lived and into the actual attractions.

They passed Diana and Clark, who were lifting “thousand” pound weights onto several small stages around their striped booth. The sign above them read “MARVEL AT THE INCREDIBLE STRENGTH OF SUPERMAN AND WONDERWOMAN!” next to a painting of Diana holding a weight with one arm and Clark standing atop it holding an elephant above his head. The cartoon’s colors were bright despite the aged peeling paint.

Clark grinned and waved at them, “Good morning boys! Ready to face everything Gotham can throw at us?”

“If it’s anything like that time in Miami I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready,” Dick laughed as they passed.

“You’re looking fresh this morning, Jason,” Diana blew him a kiss and he blushed.

He could hear laughter fading behind them as Dick dragged him towards the main arena.  She would never let him live down the crush he’d had on her when he first showed up all those years ago. Clark had assured him that it was okay, _“everyone has a crush on her, kid.”_

Luckily another ravenette had caught his eye before he could sing her a love song or something else as equally embarrassing.

Not that he would do _that_. Not at all. Never.

“What did Grayson do to make you blush so hard, Todd?”

Jason stammered as they passed Damian, who was massaging his tiger’s ears as she ate.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, squirt,” Dick shot at him, winking at Jason.

“Actually, we _don’t_ want to know, you disgusting fools. Isn’t that right, Artemis?” He cooed. The tiger eyed Jason hungrily.

They passed Tim, who was working with Cass to set up Stephanie’s large grungy tank. Steph had, in Jason’s opinion, one of the coolest jobs in the whole of Wayne’s Whimsical Wonders. She was a mermaid.

A motherfucking _mermaid._

Jason had books about mermaids back in the trailer, and after spending time with Steph, the mermaids in the stories more and more resembled the blonde over time.  

At the moment she was bossing the other two around from the ground, where she sat arranging her gear on a quilt, pointing at random things that needed adjusting and making Tim reach in and clean a spot on the inside of the glass. Jason was one hundred percent certain it was just so she could oggle his ass.  

They were almost to the big top when Madam Mooney hobbled across the misty dirt path before them. She held a muffin in one hand and a handful of bones and marbles in another.

The thing about Madam Mooney, Psychic and Fortune Teller, was that no one could ever really tell when she was dressed up in her normal clothing or her costume, because they looked the same: colorful gauzy layers wrapped around her boney form, bandana tied around a bald brown head, long ropes of pearls and various prismatic amulets draped from her neck like a waterfall. Matted eye makeup as vibrant as her one blue eye would make anyone think she’d just walked out of a reading.

The old woman was muttering something about painted fools when she nearly ran into Dick.

“ _Oh!_ Hello, dear. Don’t go into the mess hall, I just saw one of the clowns open an umbrella at the _exact_ time a black cat jumped onto the table and ate an egg. Wouldn’t want you boys to catch any bad luck from those idiots.”

Dick chuckled, “We’ll be sure not to, thanks for the heads up Madam.”

“Speaking of superstition-” (she raised one painted eyebrow at Jason’s phrasing) “-You don’t happen to know what it means that I found a dead robin outside my trailer this morning?”

Whatever reaction Jason had been hoping for, Mooney obviously wasn’t in tune to his wishes.

Her eyes snapped behind them with an intensity of someone just given an electric shock. Dick glanced back curiously. The only thing behind them was the shadowed forest; the sliver of sunlight rising behind it making the ghostly fog look like warm liquid drifting through the air in lazy swirls.

“You didn’t tou-touch it I hope?”

Jason stared wide eyed at the old woman, who’s shaking hands threatened to drop her breakfast. Dick let go of Jason’s hand and stepped toward her, concern obvious in his movements. Somewhere in the labyrinth of tents bells chimed musically.

“Madam-?”

She stepped back, whole body wracked with shivers, eyes still locked on a point behind them as she shook her head violently.

“I wrapped in a paper and put it under a log-”

 _“_ You _went into the forest?!”_

Jason took a hasty step back as Mooney’s eyes shot to his, wide as saucers. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Electricity seemed to spark invisible through the air.

“Y-yes?” He mumbled weakly.

Dick stood looking helpless between them, glancing from one to the other, “What’s so bad about it, Mooney? What’s wrong?”

“Jas-Jason, my b-boy you shouldn’t have- shouldn’t have done that-t-”

“Alright. Madam Mooney? I’m gonna help you back to your trailer, alright?”

As soon as Dick’s hand touched her arm the shaking stopped and the grip on her breakfast relaxed. She blinked up at their disturbed expressions.

“What’s wrong, boys?” She asked with a kind smile, mismatched eyes glowing with a motherly concern so completely opposite to the fear they’d emanated seconds before that it was like whiplash.

 

“Miss?” Dick stared at her, mouth agape.

Mooney smiled at him and placed her muffin in his hovering hand.

“Jason, dear, you look ill. Maybe go lie down,” she patted his arm with one wrinkled hand as she hobbled away, mist curling around stubby vintage heels.  

The bells stopped ringing.

They stared after her for a moment before Dick shook himself and laughed weakly.

“You’d think growing up with her you’d be used to it.”

Jason’s eyes shifted from the old psychic to the woods. The feeling of dread refused to disperse in his ribcage, even when Dick gripped his hand again and started toward the arena.

  
  
  
  



End file.
